


Magic Touch

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Hand Fetish, earth vs space, jemma is thirsty af, one-sided fantasizing, team earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: In which Jemma drives herself to distraction.





	Magic Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't sure if I should go M or E, went E just to be safe. Not the most explicit thing I've ever written, but some descriptions and language might make E a better it. Enjoy!

Jemma Simmons had a problem. 

Perhaps not a serious one, but a problem all the same. She glanced over to where her partner was entrenched in his work, his tongue just peeking out between his lips as he stared at the prototype he cradled in his hands. 

His perfectly structured hands, with long, dexterous fingers that always knew just what touch to use for the problem at hand. Those same fingers that controlled the holotable with ease, pulling up diagrams and finding problems in the blink of an eye, or took the time to sketch his designs by hand when the mood struck him. She’d watched him do it often enough that she could easily draw up the image in her mind’s eye: elegant fingers wrapped around a pencil as his hand floated over the page, pulling the ideas that sprung up in his imagination and transposing them easily onto paper. 

She nibbled her own lower lip and fought the urge to squirm in her seat. Jemma felt her cheeks heat as her imagination called up even more lurid images of Fitz and his hands and just what they could do to her. What she’d like to do to him. 

All the while, Fitz just sat there with his head down, hard at work. Diligent and focused and absolutely delectable.

She felt a little guilty indulging in such lurid thoughts about her best friend without his knowledge while they were working, but there was something deliciously naughty about it, too. Fitz was just sitting there, focused on his work and entirely unaware of just how wet her knickers had become thanks to him and his hands. 

She imagined he’d start slow. Cup her cheeks in his hands, trace the lines of her face with those delicate fingers. Jemma imagined his azure eyes going wide with shock and then darkening with lust when she wrapped her lips around the pad of his thumb. She wanted to kiss each of his fingertips in turn, wanted to tease each one with her tongue and let him imagine it was her mouth on his cock instead. She knew intrinsically that she’d have to be careful to not push him too hard, too fast. She’d seen Fitz when he was caught up in the moment - all fire and temper - and knew that he’d burn her up if she wasn’t careful. 

Jemma wanted to be incinerated another time 

Now, she wanted to imagine slow. Wanted to envision those talented fingers carefully unbuttoning her blouse, spreading the silky material wide to expose her torso. She knew him well enough to know that despite the fact that he might trace patterns over her freckles, it would only be a brief stop on the way to her breasts. The thought of his hands on her, cupping her, fingers teasing her through the lace of her bra was enough to make her nipples tighten and pleasant chills run down her spine. 

She nibbled on her lower lip to keep from making a sound and kept watching Fitz work.

Jemma was willing to bet anything that Fitz would slow down for her breasts, or at least she liked to imagine that he would. Slow caresses along the lower curve, a careful swipe of the thumb over her tight nipples, his eyes burning into hers as he dared her to keep her composure. Never one to be outdone (even in her fantasies), he’d tweak her nipples to get the reaction he wanted: a soft, sharp gasp as wetness flooded between her legs and tingles ran along all of her nerves. 

“What was that, Simmons?”

Jemma could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks double and reached for the nearest pile of papers, hoping that if she looked busy he wouldn’t think too much of it. Then she could go back to imagining his hands taking her apart instead of laboring through the tedium of countless lab reports.

“Nothing, Fitz. Absolutely nothing.”

She bit her lip and tried to read the report that was on the top of the stack but just kept reading the same paragraph explaining titration (of all things) again and again as images of Fitz plucking open the button of her jeans and slowly tugging down the zip raced through her mind. How would he touch her? Soft and teasing over her knickers? Would he slip his fingers beneath the little elastic band and touch her properly? Press his fingertips over her clit until her legs trembled and her breath came short?

Jemma squeaked out an excuse and darted for the bathroom, locking the door before falling against it heavily and shoving her hand down her pants. She gave a soft meep as her fingers found her clit, and unlike her imaginary version of her best friend, there was no hesitation. She pressed her fingers against herself in quick, tight circles, imagining that it was her best friend doing the touching. 

Fitz with his long, elegant fingers slicking through her folds, pressing against her clit, dipping inside of her quim. He’d feel so fucking fantastic touching her, his fingers pumping into her, her sex clinging to her digits as he brought her to the heights of pleasure. Jemma had no doubt that Fitz and his doubtlessly magic hands would get her off as easily as he worked equations and solved their technical difficulties. A sharp gasp slipped past her lips as she began to crest into orgasm and Jemma just managed to slap a hand over her mouth to keep the entire office from hearing her keen in pleasure. 

She shook apart there, eyes squeezed shut and body shivering as she imagined Fitz holding her through it, his touch changing as his hands went from trying to make her break apart to soothing, titillating to adoring. 

Jemma was bombarded by even more images as she felt her breathing slow and her muscles start to relax, the aftershocks of her release washing through her body and leaving her pleasantly breathless. They were images of Fitz’ hands, framing her face, curving around her hip, and even threading through her hair. They continued to bombard her as she set about cleaning herself up, making herself up presentable to go back to work and get through the rest of her afternoon with Fitz sitting only a few feet away from her. 

All the while she tried to ignore her favorite mental image of Fitz’ hands: his fingers entwined with hers, wearing a matching gold band. 

  
  



End file.
